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Authors: Bailey Bradford

Tags: #Erotic Romance Fiction

Texas and Tarantulas (5 page)

BOOK: Texas and Tarantulas
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Chet gave the slightest nod then reached behind himself and pulled out his wallet. From that, he removed a condom package.

Mahon couldn’t help the gulp that escaped him anymore than he could stop his dick from leaking pre-cum. He didn’t bottom—but he was going to today.

Though not easily.

Chet placed the condom on a stand and unfastened his belt. Then he took a step forward and placed both hands on Mahon’s chest.

Mahon grabbed his wrists, not being gentle, either, though he didn’t aim to break Chet. They grappled, and damn it all if Mahon didn’t almost come in his shorts, then Chet growled again and took him down with a kick of one booted foot to the back of Mahon’s ankles.

Mahon went down like a redwood, falling, falling, then crashing onto what turned out to be a couch. It wasn’t a comfortable landing at all, but it only inflamed his need even more. He had hardly hit the couch before he was shoved onto his belly. His shorts were opened and shoved down so quickly he couldn’t keep track of it.

Then he heard the pop of a button, the soft hiss of a zipper being tugged down. He felt Chet stretch, knew he was reaching for the condom. Mahon closed his eyes, dizzy with desire and not a small amount of fear.

But there was no way in hell he was stopping this. His prey had turned hunter, and won the prize. Unless Mahon used his excessive strength and abilities, he was the loser here.

And also the winner, because he suddenly and fiercely craved what was about to happen.

It was only when slick fingers teased at his asshole that the other man spoke.

“Yes or no?” Chet asked.

Three little words, and yet they held so much potential for risk, pleasure and pain, or disappointment and safety.

“Yes,” Mahon hissed, trying to spread his legs and get his ass tipped up.

He quit doing that when the first finger was pushed into his hole. Mahon froze at the weirdness of it. It didn’t hurt, but there was a little burn.

He heard Chet spit, felt the wet heat hit his pucker. A second finger breached him, and
was uncomfortable.

Chet touched his back and buttocks, soothing him, calming Mahon down.

Mahon clutched at the couch, digging his nails into the fabric as he struggled not to pull away or scramble over it. He wanted what he was getting, but it was frightening and painful and—

“Fuck!” He knew what that warm roll of pleasure was from. Mahon had gotten more than one lover off by caressing his prostate. Just, he’d never had anyone do it to him, and he’d honestly never bothered to try it himself.

He was going to be checking that little prize out on his own now for sure. His desire for a wordless hookup was altered with every stroke of his gland. Mahon cursed, and soon he begged until that third digit was inside him, working his ass open, preparing him for what would enter him next.

All the while, Chet kept touching him on the outside like he was something special. Mahon knew it was just to keep him from bolting, or maybe Chet was even doing it absently.

Then it didn’t matter, because those fingers were gone and something much thicker and blunter was pressed to his pucker.

Chet curved over him, wrapping an arm around his chest and holding him at the shoulders.

Mahon thought he felt the soft brush of lips over his spine then he was gritting his teeth, tensing all over as Chet began to sink his dick into Mahon’s ass.

It hurt. At first, that was all there was, pain, growing stronger, spreading out from his asshole to his rectum and balls.

Chet paused and murmured, “Relax. You know how to do this.”

No, Mahon really didn’t, but he wasn’t going to say as much. He knew how to talk other guys through it. That’s what he’d done before.

Relax, push out. Stop trying to pinch my dick off with your ass, that’s what I’d say if it was me fucking a guy like…me.
Mahon panted then took a long, slow breath. He concentrated on loosening up his muscles, and it worked.

The pain dulled, Chet’s cock slipped in deeper, and the beginnings of pleasurable sensations began to lick along the nerve endings in his rectum.

And Chet trailed more of those soft kisses over his spine and shoulder.

Mahon had never done that to a lover. It’d always been about hard and fast, getting off and being the alpha.

But this wasn’t. This was a secret Mahon wouldn’t share with anyone else, a gift he was giving to himself, and whether the man knew it or not, to Chet as well.

So when Chet pushed in deeper, when his cock spread into parts of Mahon he’d never imagined allowing a man to be, Mahon went with it.

Not only went with it, he opened himself up to the blissful feeling, the want and craving building in him.

He felt the scrape of teeth over his skin at the same time Chet’s balls pressed against his. Every part of Mahon was alight with the feeling of being filled in such a manner.

Chet moved his hips, not pulling back, but stretching Mahon’s ass with his thick cock.

The first moan slipped past Mahon’s lips.

There was a rumble which might have been a pleased laugh, or it might have been an answering moan, then Chet was moving more, pulling back so that his dick gave Mahon’s inner walls a long, slow glide. It awakened any remaining nerves that hadn’t been stimulated, then Chet thrust back in, and his crown went right over Mahon’s gland.

Mahon’s entire nervous system did a celebratory dance. He couldn’t stop moaning as Chet began to really fuck him, driving in harder each time, pulling out faster and almost completely. A couple of times he did come out all the way then ram back in.

Mahon couldn’t contain the ecstasy bubbling over. He shoved a hand down and got it around his dick. He had enough sense left to aim it down in the hopes of not getting cum on the couch.

Chet growled again and bit Mahon. It wasn’t a skin-breaking bite, but it cast Mahon into an orgasm so intense he lost track of everything but the euphoria that swamped him.

Whether he shouted or not, he couldn’t have said. All he could do was feel as his balls pulsed spunk up to his cock. It was unlike any release he’d ever had before, and it felt as if he were being turned inside out from the intensity of it.

Another sharper bite brought him some awareness. He became aware of Chet hammering into him, grunting, rhythm shot, the man driven by his own ferocious need.

Mahon clenched his ass, and got what he wanted.

Chet bit him a third time and panted against Mahon’s back while grinding against Mahon’s ass.

Chet’s cock swelled inside him, and Mahon wished to hell and back he could feel the cum pumping into him without a barrier. After several spurts, Chet lay on him and gasped.

Mahon knew the feeling. He didn’t want to move from where he was, wasn’t sure he even could.

But after several minutes, Chet pushed himself up then slowly eased his softening cock out of Mahon’s ass. He rubbed Mahon’s back, his butt, gentle caresses that seemed at odds with the rough fucking they’d just shared.

Mahon soaked it in, eager for those touches. He’d never suspected he needed gentleness, and maybe he didn’t. It could just be that he wanted it, which wasn’t the same thing. Surely it wasn’t surprising that the same man who’d made him want to bottom also made him want to feel cared for.

And that was a stupid, weak way to think.

Chet gave him one more stroke then stopped touching him completely.

Mahon stayed bent over, eyes shut, while he listened to the sounds of Chet righting his clothing.

There should be words now, he reasoned, yet none came to him, and none came from the cowboy who was almost certainly not really named Chet.

A soft, swiping noise, as well as the brush of an arm between his legs, told Mahon that the stranger was cleaning his spunk off the floor.

Then there was one final touch, fingers or lips, Mahon didn’t know. Boot heels sounded, retreating, carrying the cowboy out of the room.

Everything inside Mahon screamed
chase him! Find him! Don’t let him go!

But for once, he completely refused to give in to his instincts. There was no justification in doing what his conscience or whatever was telling him to do. He would complete the job he’d been sent to Texas for then he’d leave. A relationship of any sort wasn’t possible—and he feared himself, feared he’d fall for the cowboy who’d fucked him like a sex god.

Mahon forced himself to open his eyes and to stand up. He pulled up his shorts and fastened them. His ass ached, a deep, hot pain that wasn’t exactly unpleasant. When he took a step, he gasped, surprised at how much it still felt like he had that thick, hard cock in him.

Mahon shook his head and told himself to get over it. He’d let a guy fuck him, and it’d been great, but it wasn’t happening again. Not with the cowboy, and not with anyone else.

He didn’t like the vulnerability of it, of letting someone have him that way.

The steps creaked as he went down them. Had they done that when he and the stranger had dashed up them? Probably. They’d probably made all kinds of noise, too. Mahon’s throat felt strained, like he’d been shouting for a while.

Yet when he went downstairs, the old man at the front didn’t look at him askance.

He smiled distractedly at Mahon. “Did you enjoy your visit to Hollis House?”

Mahon didn’t know a damned thing about Hollis House except he’d been fucked in it. “Yeah, it was great.” Then words tumbled out before he could stop them. “Do you know who the guy was that came in before me? And just left?”

The old man nodded. “Of course. The Jacek family has been a part of our town for years.”

Every good feeling Mahon had turned into icy cold dread. “Jacek?”

“Yes, the Jaceks. Trent is a fine young man, though it’s a shame. I hear they found the remains of his and Joe’s mother on the ranch today.”

Mahon was as graceless as Bill when he stumbled out of the building, wondering just what the hell he’d done.


Chapter Five




Trent had come to Uvalde because he’d had to get away from the ranch and the chaos on it before he lost his mind.

‘It doesn’t mean the remains are your mother’s,’
he heard Sheriff Kenzie say in his head again. And along with that too-fresh memory, he saw the grayed bones, the tattered pieces of material found under it, the bag that he and Joe had given their mother the prior Christmas buried beside the body.

“It could just be a coincidence,” Kenzie had said.

They all knew better.

Trent wanted to punch someone. He wanted to go back in time and make his dad tell him the truth about his mother’s disappearance. Whether she’d left him or not, she sure as fuck hadn’t dug her own grave and put herself and her bag in it.

No, someone else had done that to her.

The brief respite Trent had found in the surprising game of chase and fuck fled. He’d tucked a condom in his wallet after the encounter with Bill, rationalizing that he just didn’t know when he might meet someone.

But he sure as hell hadn’t expected to come to town and meet a big, strong, horny man who wanted the same thing he did. He’d just been angry and his head more than a little messed up after the sheriff had shown him what had been found on the ranch. Trent didn’t even remember the drive to Uvalde, he’d been so lost in his thoughts. And hurt. It
to see those bones, to know that his mother had never been very far from them at all, but she’d been left out there, dying, dead.

What if she’d suffered? Had taken hours or even days to die?
He couldn’t shut his thoughts down. Hadn’t been able to until he’d noticed a big, sexy man watching him. Only then had he quit imagining different horrific scenarios for his mother’s death.

All this time, Trent had believed he wanted a relationship.

Now, after seeing his mother’s skeletal remains, he knew he couldn’t have one. If his dad had done that… It was just too much for him to handle right then. Maybe ever.

No, it isn’t. I want to know the truth. Me and Joe deserve it, and so does Mom. Dad, too, even if he—

Trent almost choked on the thought. He hustled to his truck, deciding he’d get groceries later. That had been his excuse to leave the ranch.

And Diego had asked for him to pick up a few things. “Fuck. Fuck!” He stopped in his tracks and tried to get his shit together. He resolved himself to grabbing at least the items Diego needed.

He wasn’t going back to the store he’d been in when the big stud had found him. He’d hit up the other grocer.

As he changed directions, Trent let himself think of the man. The utter surprise on his face when Trent had shoved back, the stricken, turned on, needy look on that rough man—Trent could beat off to that image forever.

Or to the memory of the tight, tight grip around his dick, or the soft and harsh sounds the man had made—grunting, cursing, begging, having his breath driven out of him from Trent fucking him so hard and fast.

Yeah, he had memories that were better than any porno would be. It was probably stupid of him to have left without speaking, asking for a number or a name. He’d regret it later, Trent would bet.

Speaking would have ruined it all, though. They’d played a very rough, very erotic game, and silence, or at least as few words as possible exchanged between them, was a large part of it all.

Besides, the man hadn’t spoken directly to him, either. Hadn’t asked Trent’s name, and after the fucking, hadn’t even bothered to stand up or open his eyes and look at Trent.

That was okay. Trent got it. They’d had a hot hook up then it was over. He could live with that. Thinking about it was also better than dwelling on what had happened at the ranch today.

A part of him had known from the moment he’d seen that femur.

“No. Don’t go there.” He pressed his lips together. Talking to himself in private was one thing. Doing so in public would get him labeled as being off his rocker. He could do without that kind of a reputation.

He and Joe had to go give DNA samples soon.

Stop. Just stop thinking about it.
Easier said than done.

BOOK: Texas and Tarantulas
4.34Mb size Format: txt, pdf, ePub

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